


The Gift

by SculptorOfBeginnings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood Loss, Dark fiction, Dubious Consent, F/M, Knifeplay, Memory Alteration, Painplay, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Smut, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 13:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SculptorOfBeginnings/pseuds/SculptorOfBeginnings
Summary: Dean wants to give you a special gift for Christmas, but Michael decides to be the one who delivers it.





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for covered-byroses Michael!Cember event on Tumblr, and I’ve been sitting on it for like a month and a half. I’ve been dying to post it and YESSSSSSSSSS it’s finally here!! Technically unbeta’d, but it’s been gone over by a couple friends. Also I’ve gone over it like 5000 times so if you find any mistakes, they’re all mine. 
> 
> It's dark fic, so feel free to leave your comments on anon if that makes you comfortable :)

 

 

  


[Originally posted by secretsandgreeneyes](http://tmblr.co/ZdrUSa2bTo-3Z)

 

“Are you ready sweetheart?”

Dean was half hard just looking at you. Eyes sliding sinfully down your body, he took his time appreciating the pretty packaging you’d wrapped yourself in, just for him. His teeth gnawed at his lower lip as you stood completely still in the center of his room, your pupils blown with lust and shoulders squared confidently. Pink and white silk lingerie on you was his favorite, but you’d gone all out in finding a new, strappy, number that tied up into cute little bows at your shoulders and hips.

It was Christmas after all, and presents just weren’t complete without bows.

The room was warm, but goosebumps still rose excitedly across your skin under his gaze.

There was a slight trepidation in his eyes as he fingered the handle of the long, but thin, double-edged blade. Dean hadn’t liked the thought of putting a sharp edge to any of your soft curves, but after many hours of conversation and a few months of avoiding the issue, he decided he could give you what you wanted.

Being possessed by Michael, and then released, had left him feeling extra thankful. He was more appreciative of the small things in life. Even if the thing you wanted was dark--a torturous skill he’d always tried to bury in shame--Dean decided he would bring you the kind of pleasure you sought.

The outfit was his present, what came next was yours.

You had to fight the urge to touch him as light reflected onto his skin, bouncing off the cool silver and shining against a chest that had no business being as beautiful as it was.

You’d always loved pain with your pleasure, and had even dabbled in this particular fantasy with an ex...but you could only imagine the heights Dean would bring you to with that blade in hand. A shiver coursed its way down your body as you stood tall, chest heaving in anticipation. You finally nodded, locking your eyes with his.

“Yes sir, I’m ready.”

His eyes hardened and a slow smirk crawled over his mouth. “Good girl.”

Your knees wanted to buckle under his praise, but they held firm as he started a slow circle around you, palming his covered cock with one hand and expertly twirling the knife in the other.

Dean was carefully analyzing his present, contemplating where and how to begin. He didn’t want to hurt you, but now that the moment was here something pleasantly dark was rumbling to the surface. It scratched and clawed at the back of his mind, vibrating through him with an almost alarming strength.

He was out of sight when cold steel connected softly with your lower back, making you flinch in surprise. Dean trailed the flat of the blade across your flesh, and you let out a soft moan as he angled his wrist. The pointed tip left only a scratch as he dragged it along, letting you feel it without breaking the skin.

Dean’s head invaded the space over your shoulder as he pressed against you from behind, forcing your head to the side. He drew his left hand up your arm, fingertips leaving a new trail of goosebumps as they moved. His touch was delicious, but your mind was on the blade.

You knew it was in his right hand, but it had left your back, and not knowing where it would be placed next had heat like lava pooling in your core.

Dean was unexpectedly good at this despite his reservations.

His giant hand engulfed your shoulder, steadying you against him.

“Stay very still.”

You didn’t nod at his clipped instruction, choosing instead to breathe deeply and obey. A glint of light drew your eyes lower. The knife came into view as he brought it up, hovering it tauntingly in front of your face. He let you settle for a moment before lightly pressing it to your cheek.

“Such a pretty girl, all dressed up in my favorite wrapping paper and topped with pretty little bows.” His head turned and he bit roughly into your neck. You grunted as his teeth sank in, eyes falling closed as you surrendered to the pain. Dean groaned at the taste of you as his tongue traced the indentions, his cock swelling thick in his jeans. “Best Christmas ever,” he murmured into your skin..

He stepped away then, leaving you cold without his body to warm you. You tried to sense where he was as tension curled in your belly, traveling through your gut and reaching into the nerves hidden by your clenched thighs. Dean chuckled as you shifted, trying to control your reaction, then he fell quiet. The air was eerily still for a full minute before Dean stalked into your view.

His head was dipped low to observe his hands twirling the tip of the blade slowly against one finger. The silence was heavy; ominous instead of playful as it had been. Your head quirked to the side as you studied his posture, so different from before.

Had he changed his mind?

“Oh Y/N, if I had known you wanted to play like this I would have brought Dean home sooner.”

 

  


[Originally posted by secretsandgreeneyes](http://tmblr.co/ZdrUSa2ciGi25)

 

His tone was terrifyingly familiar and your gut clenched again, this time in fear. “No…” you whispered as he looked up, emerald eyes being replaced with the glowing bright blue that could only belong to one creature.

You opened your mouth to scream for Sam, but nothing came out.

The cocky grin that stole over your boyfriend’s face made you whimper.

“I saw this little scenario floating around Dean’s head but I never thought he would be brave enough to do it.”

Michael wore the carnal look of a predator.

It was the very look you’d been hoping to see Dean wear, but with the Archangel suddenly in charge there was no love behind it… only hunger. Your body didn’t know the difference, it had been prepared for that look, prepared for the fear…hell, you had been begging for it.

The invisible bondage you were under provided the perfect storm of helplessness that you’d been searching for, making your heart race and your pupils dilate further. You were ashamed as you felt the wet spot growing in your panties, and you shifted awkwardly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. You opened your mouth to speak, but again, nothing came out. You could see the reflection of your own eyes, wide with fear, in Dean’s as Michael stepped into your space, standing almost chest to chest with you.

“You humans...you don’t understand the gift you have hidden under this fragile wrapping. Did you know that every blood cell contains a piece of your soul?”

You shook your head, and he smirked condescendingly, unsurprised by your silent answer.

“Of course you didn’t.”

Your heart thumped heavily and your stomach rolled, remembering the knife was still in his hand. The Archangel could do whatever he wanted with you, with or without the weapon, but the thought of that blade cutting you against Dean’s will made you want to retch. Your mind spun into a million scenarios, a million ways this could play out, but in your heart you knew there was only one way to get out alive, and that was to play along with whatever he wanted.

“Yes, Y/N. You are _exactly_ right.”

 _Fuck._ You’d forgotten he could probably read your mind.

Michael brought his hand to your cheek, caressing it softly with the back of his first finger. There was a knowing twinkle in his eye as he didn’t linger, purposefully dragging a straight line down the front of your body until he reached the edge of the silk barrier hiding your pussy.

“Weak thing...of course I can read your mind. Which makes you speaking…unnecessary.” The stiff drawl shouldn’t have been so sexy, but it was _Dean’s_ voice taunting you; you couldn’t help the rush of slick or slight hardening of your nipples as your body reacted.

 _Where is this going?_ You wondered, thoughts suddenly tingeing red with panic through the lust. Your jaw clenched as he brought the knife between you.

 

  


“Don’t worry, Y/N.” he cooed patiently. ”We want the same thing. For now.” He reached one finger out to stroke an agonizing line down the wet silk between your thighs. “Only instead of Dean, _I’m_ going to be your Santa Claus, delivering your presents in a nice big sack.” You wanted to roll your eyes as he brought back Dean’s terrible joke from earlier. Michael’s fingers followed the same line back up, hooking your clit and earning a reluctant mewl from your parted lips instead of the sarcastic remark that had been playing on your tongue. His gaze darkened with a lust you hadn’t realized Archangels were capable of.

Maybe Dean was still awake in there, affecting him somehow.

Oh God...what if Michael was making him _watch_?

After teasing two slow circles around your hidden clit he stopped to grab your limp hand, but the tingling from his fingers remained. You fought a moan as he flattened your palm over his thick erection.

 

  


Michael used the sharp edge of the knife to follow the line of your collarbone, stopping at your bra strap as his hips pressed into your hand, encouraging you to stroke him. “If you play nice,” the blade dipped under the silk and he drew it up, slicing the fabric with ease, “I’ll allow both you and Dean to live. And it’ll still be his hand slicing open all this pretty wrapping paper, just like you wanted. Doesn’t that sound _fair,_ little girl? You’ll have your pleasure and your life. All you have to do is want it.”

Was he lying? He’d been hiding inside Dean for _months_ , it seemed unlikely he had revealed himself just for this.

Could he seriously just want to _play_? The twitch of his cock under Dean’s pants said yes. It was possible he just wanted to take something from Dean, but it felt too easy. Would you really get out of this just by being compliant?

“Yes,” Michael whispered tauntingly against your lips, answering your thoughts. “This is a game I’m especially fond of. Human blood is…” His hips pressed forward into your hand again. “...well, let’s just say there is a little piece of Heaven in every drop.” His pink tongue snaked out alongside a soft hiss of breath, and you couldn’t deny it was an intoxicating moment.

Michael was about to destroy everything. _Again_. If you did this-- and fuck, you _really_ wanted to all of a sudden--Dean would hate you.

Michael grinned as the worries in your head flashed into his. He inhaled deeply, the scent of your arousal teasing at the edge of his unnatural composure. You smelled divine. The Archangel neatly cut your other strap before peeling the silk away to expose your aching breasts.

“Dean won’t hate you Y/N, even if you enjoy this.” You flinched inwardly at the prospect, still held fast by his power over you. “Don’t worry... _you will,_ ” he murmured conspiratorially, enjoying your discomfort. “No. Dean will hate himself.”

A single tear escaped as your eyes opened, defeat and misery warring with the overwhelming arousal coursing through your veins. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want the excitement you felt from being held to his will, but it was only growing the longer you were forced to stand still. The tingling between your legs increased as Michael drew the flat of the blade straight down your left breast, stopping when the point reached the edge of your areola. He released you enough to allow a gasp as he flicked his wrist, leaving a tiny nick. Blood started to bead immediately, and his eyes practically lit up at the sight.

Michael let out a sound that was almost a purr as your body trembled in response to the cut.

“Can you be quiet?” he mused, sounding almost as if he were talking to himself. The feeling between your legs grew until it was like two fingers were vibrating against your clit, and you realized it was his Grace.

The son-of-a-bitch was using his God-given powers, his very _essence_ , to play with your body. You hated how much it turned you on as he teased and tested your body’s responses. You hated how dirty it made you feel to want more.

“How quiet?” The words croaked from your throat as more tears pricked in your eyes, but you pushed them back.

It was time to play his game, you told yourself. Like always, it was time to survive...even if your relationship wouldn’t.

The Archangel saw the submission in your mind and whistled appreciatively.

“You really do love him, don’t you? So willing to do anything to save his life...or perhaps you’re just excited to have a reason to let this happen.” He contemplated your glare, coldly assessing you for a moment before continuing. “Just don’t scream anything that will signify who you’re really fucking and you can make all the noise you want.” The heat on your clit pulsed, spreading impossibly through the deep roots of the nerve buried under your abdomen. You shuddered. You had never felt anything like it, and you knew you were done for. “Deal?” Michael asked, dragging his first finger through the blood on your nipple and smearing it along as he circled your body the same way Dean had.

This go-round was more intense, because you no longer trusted the person behind the blade.

Hell, the person behind the blade wasn’t even really a _person_ anymore. You were in danger every second the game ticked on, and fuck if that didn’t turn you on more.

“I wouldn’t trust a deal from you, Michael,” you dared as soon as he allowed you to speak. “The only reason you’re standing here right now is because you broke the last one.” He stopped your smart tongue with a snap of his fingers, his own clicking in disappointment against the roof of his mouth.

You tried to follow him with your eyes, but had to close them when the pulse over your clit lessened, only to become the hot lick of a tongue you knew wasn’t really there.

Blinding white flashed over the darkness behind your eyes as cold steel cut across the top of your right thigh. You hissed at the familiar throb and sting, your core clenching around nothing as your body absorbed the pain you had been aching for. When you opened your eyes you expected to see a gash, not the seeping trail of broken skin that was long, but no thicker than a cat-scratch.

“They’re all going to look like that. _Feel_ like that. Did you like it?” Michael already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear you. The invisible tongue of pressure swiped pointedly over your clit and you nodded desperately. “Say it,” he whispered into your ear, his naked chest crowding against your arm as he pressed into you from the side. “Tell me what you want.”

For a second you wondered how he could remain so calm, but then you remembered Archangels didn’t feel emotion like humans did. This was just another instance of Michael manipulating a lesser creature simply because he could.

“I want…” you were almost surprised when the words actually came out, and you cringed that the thought of saying it out loud, “...you to cut me again.”  

You instantly got your wish, his hand deftly sliding the razor edge across your other thigh almost quicker than you could see. Your breath hissed through your teeth as you bit back a gasp, the thin trails of blood tickling your skin on the way down.

“On the bed. Lay on your back.” His words were concise, leaving no room for argument as you forced your limbs to obey. When you situated yourself at the head of the bed you realized all the fabric on your body was gone--it seemed Michael had decided they didn’t need to be part of the game any longer.

It was strange seeing an Angel like this. Last time you had laid eyes on Michael he’d been dressed to the nines, but now…belted jeans hugged Dean’s hips, highlighting the soft V you loved to nibble on. He was barefoot, bare chested, and rock hard. When he wasn’t speaking it was difficult remembering this wasn’t Dean...that the nerves that would light up in pleasurable response to your touch would belong to Michael.

Michael assessed your positioning against the pillows, twirling the blade against his finger again as he towered over the bed. He decided Dean was right--you were a pretty package--and Michael couldn’t wait to see the gift inside.

He guessed it was red.

Michael watched the colors of your soul swirling chaotically as you warred with yourself over what you were feeling. He felt oddly proud, knowing he was the cause of your turmoil. He rather liked being on the outside of emotions; being the manipulator of them instead of the affected. Humans were weak, but their _feelings_? Those could be so _very_ strong.

On Earth he had quickly learned they were his favorite weapon. This knife however...the way your eyes followed it everywhere they could, the smell of your hormones spiking, and how your soul pulsed every time it left your view?

They made it a close second.

When he was satisfied with how twisted up waiting for him had gotten you, he crawled lithely over the mattress, framing your trembling body until his knees were on either side of your hips. His face hovered over yours, hands planted beside your shoulders. You tried to read his eyes, but found nothing.

You wanted to kill Michael and kiss Dean’s perfect mouth just then; bury the knife into his neck and buck your hips against the insistent pressure building between your legs. Michael read your mind and smirked before giving you what your body was crying out for. The outline of Dean’s cock ground heavily into your clit just as his mouth connected with yours. He pecked your lips over and over as he rutted against you, enjoying the feel of you squirming so helplessly, inside _and_ out.

It was too intense. Your eyes rolled back into your head as his Grace shifted, pulsing its way inside to nestle against your G-spot while his jean covered erection grated on your bare clit. The fire in your veins spread under his careful instruction, and heat curled from your hips to your stomach. Slowly, it rose up through your chest and into your fingertips as he rode you to an orgasm that built quickly and splintered the world around you into a kaleidoscope of color. Your hands fisted in the sheets and tucked under your back, legs clenching between his as you mewled out your pleasure.

Michael sat up on his knees, watching you writhe as his legs pinned you down with a self-satisfied smile.

“Yes,” he mused, “keep your hands there. I like them out of my way.”

Your hips jerked as aftershocks hit you, and he pursed his lips before slicing the knife in a single line from your collarbone to your belly-button. It was a cut no thicker than the ones on your thighs, your skin splitting with surprising smoothness, and you cried out with the pleasure-pain as your pussy spasmed again.

“Oh _fuck_ …” Your head lolled to the side as it buzzed happily, eyes falling shut while your lungs tried to catch up with your runaway heart. The sound of blood roaring through your ears muffled his words when he spoke, but you got the gist.

That was only the beginning.

Your head cleared after a few moments, but after rearranging your arms to splay out, his free hand found its way to your mound and rubbed lightly, fogging your thoughts with lust all over again.

“You can tell me when to stop cutting.” You felt him in your mind, a cold presence slicing through your muddled thoughts to make sure he was heard properly, “I’ll give you that for being such a good girl so far, Y/N.” The blade felt white hot as he pressed it to the skin of your cheek, ready to start at the top and work his way down your body.

“Wait!” you cried suddenly as the you felt the sharp sting. You and Dean had agreed he wouldn’t touch your face, or anywhere that would cause Sam to question what you’d been up to. Michael’s eyes gleamed at you as he ignored the protest.

You inhaled sharply as he made two neat slices on each cheek.

They were slow to start bleeding, but once they did the red streams trailed away from the cuts, making you look like a warrior. Michael’s thumb brushed your clit as a reward for your determined silence.

“I’ll heal them later. Now. Stay. Quiet.” You wanted to say no, but something inside wouldn’t let you. There was a part of you that needed to play this out.

Three angled cuts down the inside of each upper arm elicited a gasp and a strong buck of your hips.

His first and middle fingers slid through your folds with painful slowness before dipping inside your twitching entrance.

“You’re so ready, and we’ve barely begun.”

One strange, searing, symbol on each forearm bled profusely. Michael carved them deeper and wider than the rest, his hand moving slowly and with purpose as he used the tip to dig thick trenches of shapes into your flesh with one hand while stroking his fingers in and out of your pussy with the other. The combination was so intense you couldn’t help the silent tears that fell.

You _almost_ asked him to stop.

The words hovered on the tip of your tongue, edging along your consciousness and begging for release until suddenly, he was finished cutting. A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding rushed out when he dragged his fingers from inside you and placed his glowing palm over the first symbol. Your resulting cries made his cock twitch, and he reconsidered healing you for a moment.

These noises were his favorite so far, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to give them up.

He contemplated his choices as your arms bled onto the mattress. In the end, Michael healed both wounds just enough to keep you from bleeding out while sending hot, pleasant, vibrations to replace the ache his blade had brought to your arms.

After all, he didn’t want you to ask him to stop; he was having _fun_.

Even lying down, you were getting dizzy.

You were unsure if it was blood loss, pain, or lust, until his fingers slipped back down to your pussy and teased their way inside, his palm settling solidly over your mound as his fingers remained still. You decided it was all of the above as your hips rolled insistently against his hand.

“You’re doing much better than I expected.” His words made you hum happily as you allowed yourself to be swept away in the flood he was washing over you. “The way you surrender to your pain…beautiful.” He groaned, nuzzling his nose against one of the scabbing symbols. His tongue peeked out to trace the stinging outline. “I might keep you when I’m done with your species…”

Cold realization settled back in at his words. This was not Dean.

“Shit... _Michael_ …” Hearing his name fall from your lips sparked something primal in the Archangel, and his hips rutted aggressively down.

Michael nicked your other areola to match the first cut he’d made to your body before ghosting the tip of the blade down the crusted cut spanning your torso and midsection. Then he dragged it back up, quickly cutting neat slices just under each breast and following them up with crisp, slow, lines between every rib on each side. Air heaved from his human lungs as he watched your life force seep from the wounds. He could barely make out the tiny sparkles of soul he had been talking about earlier, and it was almost as beautiful as your surrender. Michael finally started pumping his finger into your soaked pussy, massaging it lightly against your upper wall. When he hit the spot that always made you wail, you knew he was using Dean’s knowledge instead of taking the time to feel it out on his own.

He scooted down your naked legs without stopping his languid assault on your libido, basking in whimpers he caused by poking a series of tiny holes around your hip bones. When his mouth closed over a small grouping of blood drops and _sucked_ , you moaned unabashedly. He pressed his fingers up, grinding them in time with his tongue on your skin.

The suction of his mouth drawing blood from your body was more erotic than you ever could have imagined.

“So wet, little girl.” he murmured against your skin, “Am I doing a good job?” You didn’t think he actually wanted an answer, so you nodded frantically, wishing he would stop talking and bring his mouth back to your body.

“You look like a Goddess,” Michael noted, sounding like he was truly enjoying himself. Apparently the Archangel was too busy to read your mind as he pulled his fingers from inside you and sucked them between his lips. “You taste like one too.” His voice was strained as he licked his fingers clean of your taste, finally moving away long enough to spread your legs and settle between them.

He dropped your thighs around his shoulders as he situated himself. Michael used Dean’s blood-smeared lips to peck more kisses across your pelvis, inching lower until he could close his hot mouth over your clenching pussy. Michael hummed just the way you liked, and his wide tongue lapped your throbbing clit inside the heated cavern. You tried to buck against him to relieve some of the overwhelming pressure, but one large hand held the edge of the blade against your belly and threatened your movements. His first finger wiggled back inside, arching perfectly into the spot you’d been dying for him to touch again and earning a loud moan from you parted lips. His mouth and finger moved around you with all the experience Dean had to offer, and within minutes your legs were shaking as you climbed back up the hill, ready to crest and flood his mouth with your arousal.

Michael didn’t stop as he felt you pulsing wildly, ready to let go. He worked another finger in beside the first, and slipped in a third when he’d slicked them up  The unexpected stretch sent you over the edge, and you came, your feet digging into his back and your pussy spasming desperately around his fingers. The wet slide of his mouth and tongue against you was sinful and heavenly at the same time.  Waves of pleasure dragged over you until your midsection locked into a spasm, drawing you up onto your elbows. Your back arched as you thrashed against him, babbling incoherent pleas for mercy.

In what appeared to be his new signature move, he nicked a line under your belly button just as an aftershock rolled through you. His tongue flicked out, barely brushing against your clit as he pulled his head away, chuckling when your body shuddered and collapsed back down to the bed. Michael shifted up and sealed his lips around the new cut. He sucked the blessed liquid into his mouth before setting the knife to the side so he could run his hands up your body and coat them in the red, sticky, mess he’d made.

Blood was _everywhere_.

It stained the sheets, soaking deep stains into the mattress no cleaner would remove. It littered your skin where it had beaded and fallen, or simply drizzled out and stuck. It was splattered along his face and intricately decorating his glistening chest everywhere it had touched you. Dean’s callouses raked painfully across every slice as Michael used his hands to explore and trace his artwork, your blood alternating between slicking his movements and making them stick as it smeared and dried.

“Please,” you managed to whisper as his sticky hands engulfed your breasts, massaging them until your nipples were beaded and aching.

“Please what, Y/N?” Michael’s sounded wrecked, and the warm tones didn’t fit the electric jolts still firing through your system.

You opened your eyes to glare but found yourself consumed by the sight of him all revved up. “Fuck me,” you spat weakly, unable to hold back the need that overwhelmed logical thought.

He moved faster than you could see, and the knife was quickly against your throat. His legs spread wider between yours, forcing your thighs even further apart and angling your hips upward. You could feel his somehow naked erection bumping against your stomach as his hard body loomed over yours.

“I don’t recall you being allowed to talk to your Master that way.” The knife pressed deeper, slicing minutely into the skin over your trachea and your hips rolled, seeking the heat of his cock. Your fear spiked though the lust as his pupils dilated, swallowing most of the sparkling green before transforming into that blinding blue.

“Dean’s not my--”

“He is right now,” the Archangel rumbled, letting his eyes return to normal. _“I am_ , right now...from the moment we picked up this blade a new set of rules came into play, and I think there’s something I need to hear before things turn... _nasty_.” You grimaced as the haze lifted a little. You wanted to yell at him, to remind him of how much you hated him, and to scream your rage until he fucked you blind.

But if you did that, chances were it would be the knife blinding you, not the cock you were dying for. Michael’s patience seemed thin, and you weren’t sure how many outbursts he would tolerate before foregoing your pleasure altogether.

“S..” you started shakily, almost unable to speak the words, “sorry.” His eyebrow piqued expectantly, and you wanted to cry again. “Master.”

A low, satisfied, noise traveled from his chest as his bloody lips claimed yours.

This time his mouth opened, and you could taste your own blood and arousal as your tongue grudgingly slipped inside. The kiss was heated; full of lust, hatred, fear and your love for Dean. Your hands clenched into the sheets as you forced them to stay in place, denying yourself the pleasure of touching him. Michael rutted against you, a shockingly human moan escaping as he spread the evidence of your climax around the sensitive underside of his cock .

After what felt like an eternity of plundering your mouth, Michael reached down and slowly guided the tip of his cock into you.

Michael almost lost control as your heat enveloped him, your walls tightening almost painfully around the girth of his cock when he pushed his way completely inside. Never had he felt such bliss, and he knew he would be coming back for more. He forced himself to focus and take his time instead of pounding you into oblivion as his vessel’s biology was demanding. He wanted to drag out this pleasure for as long as possible before returning to the real world where he had plans to execute.

For now, the only goal was to watch you, bloody and helplessly horny, squirm on his cock. So far, that was coming along nicely.

You gasped when he pulled out, leaving only the swollen head of his cock inside of you. He hitched your legs from around his hips by your knees and forced them up towards your chest, spreading them wide so he could watch your pussy swallow him eagerly. The move left you feeling even more exposed, and another hot rush of arousal had your walls fluttering around him. Dean always made you feel full, but with Michael there was something _more_...an extra stretch you didn’t care to identify because all you could think about was the moment he would start pounding you with that perfect cock.

“As you wish,” he growled, and slammed back inside to start a punishing pace. The bed rocked angrily as he moved, and you felt the knife slide down against your arm on the mattress with every thrust. It left tiny cuts where the edge slipped against you, but you were too lost in the sensual assault Michael was providing to care.

The mushroomed head of his cock kissed your cervix with every slam of his hips into yours, the solid shaft dragging wonderfully against your tightened walls and his balls slapping noisily against your ass as he worked Dean’s thick length in and out of your willing body. His head dropped back as he pounded his way closer to orgasm, and for a split second you panicked, thinking he was about to cum inside you.

That would be a death sentence, and you knew it.

Michael’s breath was coming in gasps and pants, but he still managed to grin as your thoughts trickled into his mind. At the first sign of your resistance he resumed torturing your clit with his Grace, making you lose all coherent thought and dragging you into a third orgasm.

The feel of you cumming around him, your body sucking him deeper and clamping down almost sent him over the edge. He barely remembered to gently pulse his essence around the twitching bundle of your clit as you came down. Just before he felt the snap, Michael pulled out, dropping one of your legs and using the now-free hand to pump his cock until he came. Thick ropes of glowing cum coated your abdomen, mixing with the blood he had enjoyed drawing from you as you recovered from your own climax.

When he pulled away you felt an unwelcome sense of loss, and everything began to throb. It was like someone had ripped out an IV full of painkillers you didn’t know you were taking, leaving you raw and at the mercy of your own nerves.

Everywhere he had broken skin felt like hot iron, and parts of you that you didn’t even know existed were sore. Your eyes found his stolen ones and a cocky smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you for sharing your gift with me Y/N. That was...enjoyable.”

 _Understatement of the fucking year,_ you thought miserably. You hated it, but the experience had been everything you wanted and more--ruined by being acted out with the completely wrong person.

You were back to wanting to vomit as the full weight of what you’d allowed to happen ,and how much you’d enjoyed it, came crashing down. Your emotions finally broke free alongside the physical pain and you rolled miserably to the side, curling into a bloody ball. The new position stretched and shifted your injuries, peppering your sobs with pained whimpers.

“Aw, come now, Y/N, it can’t be _that_ bad. You never asked me to stop.” The patronizing tone made you cry harder as he lay beside you, awkwardly trying to curl around you from the front, unsure of where to place his hands. He wanted to make you stop crying, bring back the blissful colors that had coated your mind moments before, but he had no idea how.

Michael didn’t _care_ , he just hated the sound. Your misery was a complete experience in itself, saturating both body and soul as you cried out. It grated on his nerves and ruined the buzz that bringing you pain and his own orgasm had left. He thought about making you cum again, he could do so easily if he chose to, but as he watched you break down behind your hands another idea formed.

A _better_ idea.

A menacing smile stretched the Archangel’s stolen face.

Suddenly you were standing again, clothed in only the new lingerie set and feeling exactly as you had before everything had gone so terribly wrong. This time however, it was Michael’s head invading the space over your shoulder.

He was speaking hypnotically in another language, words of Enochian washing over you; rinsing you clean of your experience with him and weaving a spell meant to steal memories. For now, forgetting was best for everyone.

 _Until next time.._.the words wisped their way through your mind in distant recognition, flitting away and taking with them a curious ache that was barely a memory.

Eyes fluttering open taking in the perfectly made bed, you wondered why part of you had expected it to be otherwise.

You and Dean hadn’t even gotten started yet.

Anticipation flooded hot in your gut as Dean circled around to face you, his eyes nervously falling to the blade in his hand.

“You’re sure about this, Y/N?”

Eyes sparkling with amusement, you fought a grin. “One more time. Yes sir, I’m ready. I trust you.”

His smile turned predatory as he glanced back up, but the look didn’t reach his eyes. In his eyes, all you found was love.

“Best Christmas ever,” you whispered.

 


End file.
